Why Shakespeare? In Maggie O’Farrell’s “Hamnet” the author uses her considerable talent for mapping the emotional terrain and intimate relationships of her contemporary characters over a long period of time to write a historical novel about the plague-ridden reality of late 16th century England and the death of Shakespeare’s adolescent son Hamnet. Four years after the boy’s death the Bard wrote ‘Hamlet’, a name that was used interchangeably with Hamnet at the time. Given we know only a slender amount about Shakespeare’s life and he wrote nothing of his personal grief, it’s irresistible to speculate on what motivated him to immortalize his son’s name in a play which went on to be one of the most quoted literary works in the English language. However, rather than portray Shakespeare’s thoughts and feelings, O’Farrell instead focuses on the lives of his family: Shakespeare and Agnes’ hastily arranged marriage, the illness of Hamnet’s twin sister Judith, Hamnet’s sudden death and the devastating grief which followed. This is powerfully rendered, beautifully written with evocative historical details and I enjoyed it immensely but…

I felt like something was lacking. A problem might be in my expectations for this novel which has been much-hyped and lauded. It’s been shortlisted for the Women’s Prize, tipped for the Booker and a prominent review ended by simply stating “this is a work that ought to win prizes.” Publicity for the book describes it as “the heart-stopping story behind Shakespeare’s most famous play.” But the novel tells us very little about Shakespeare’s motivation or influence for writing the play beyond what I’ve already described. So I feel that if O’Farrell uses this as a premise her fiction needs to converse with and expand our understanding of Shakespeare’s writing and his literary stature by imaginatively inhabiting his reality. However, Shakespeare is very much a periphery character who is emotionally and physically absent from his family in Stratford while he pursues his dramatic work in London. Of course, this was no doubt the reality. But if we’re not going to get Shakespeare’s perspective or a feeling for the man himself why include him as a character or focus on this central storyline?

Instead, O’Farrell inventively and movingly imagines the life of Agnes as someone with healing powers and quasi-psychic abilities who frequently gathers flowers and herbs to concoct healing mixtures for many of the locals. It’s remarked that “Agnes is of another world. She does not quite belong here.” She’s an entirely-convincing, fully rounded character who is strong and full of heart. I found it very touching how she’s hampered with feelings of guilt about her son’s fate even though she couldn’t have predicted the outcome of his illness or prevented his death. Also, her ambivalent feelings about her husband are a poignant and realistic depiction of a relationship. She’ll never want to see him again one moment and then another moment will feel achingly close to him. She also recognizes that his family and life in Stratford could never be enough for him: “She can tell, even through her dazed exhaustion, even before she can take his hand, that he has found it, he is fitting it, he is inhabiting it - that life he was meant to live, that work he was intended to do.” All of this detail and characterization is excellent but it could be about any family with an absent husband/father.

Shakespeare looms large in our esteem as probably the greatest writer in Western literature and there’s a prolific amount of biographical literature based on relatively few facts making the Bard seem more mythical than historical. Therefore, O’Farrell’s novel feels somewhat like fanfiction that imaginatively and powerfully builds a domestic universe out of the slenderly-known central players in his life. It makes an important statement by naming these figures and conspicuously not naming Shakespeare at all in the novel – he’s only ever referred to by his status as either “the husband”, “the tutor” or “the father”. Perhaps it is partly O’Farrell’s purpose in writing this book to state that the man was merely mortal and his reality was probably as ordinary as his stark and plain writing room that we get a glimpse of late in the novel. That’s perfectly fine. But…

While reading this novel I kept thinking of “Lincoln in the Bardo” and how much Saunders dynamically builds on both our historical and imagined understanding of Abraham Lincoln as a legendary political figure from American history. As with any prominent figure, it shows how he had to balance his personal reality with his public reputation. But “Hamnet” shows us almost nothing about Shakespeare’s conflict except why he’s almost entirely absented himself from family life: “He sees how he may become mired in Stratford forever, a creature with its leg in the jaws of an iron trap, with his father next door, and his son, cold and decaying, beneath the churchyard sod.” But even before Hamnet’s death he rarely visited his family. A writer who feels like they can’t simultaneously maintain a family and professional life is an interesting subject, but his feelings on this aren’t explored either. The most moving portrait of Shakespeare in this novel comes when he tries to engage Agnes in talking about the flora she gathers rather than discussing their son’s death and Agnes resolutely ignores him. Otherwise, I was left as surprised and confused as Agnes about why Shakespeare named his play after his son – other than a fairly obvious psychological interpretation for his motivations. This left me feeling somewhat deflated at the end of the novel.

Given our current circumstances, I also have to note the bizarre coincidence that this novel focuses so much on the effects of a pandemic. It describes in detail the symptoms the plague has on the body and the way measures were taken to try to contain the illness. There are references to theatres needing to periodically close because of it. There’s also an imaginative and impressive section which describes the journey of the illness and how is spreads through fleas from a young sailor to a glass craftsman and how it finally comes to infect a member of Shakespeare’s family. It’s a strange experience reading a novel whose central subject matter becomes surprisingly topical. I also want to stress how much I enjoyed this excellent novel and I’m not surprised it has many enthusiastic fans, but I just wasn’t as impressed as some other readers have been.

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Here are the six novels on this year’s Women’s Prize for Fiction shortlist! How are we all feeling about these picks. Good choices, right? I think it might be the best group in years as they’re a really strong and varied group of contenders. The stories range from the Bronze age to Tudor times to modern-day NYC. The shortest novel on the list is 208 pages and the longest is 882! I give a lot more of my thoughts on this year’s list in a new video I just posted here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3M75MGjEYbk

I must admit, I’m probably most happy to see “Weather” as I loved this short impactful novel and I’m glad it’s getting more attention. Of course, “Girl, Woman, Other” is excellent and yes deserves more attention even though it already co-won The Booker Prize. Will Evaristo get to stand on her own in the spotlight this time? I’m also glad “Dominicana” is on the list as I’m eager to read it and this nomination is the final push I need to get me to read “The Mirror and the Light” soonish (rather than letting it gather dust on my shelf for years with the intention to read it one day ) “A Thousand Ships” is really enjoyable (even for someone who has read a lot of the recent mythological retellings.) And I’m part way through reading “Hamnet” now - I’m enjoying it but not blown away by it yet (as many people have been) but it still might grab me.

I’m disappointed “Actress” and “The Dutch House” didn’t make the cut but that’s how prizes go!
How do you feel about the list? Any favourites or longlisted titles you’re sad not to see? Will you read all six before the winner is announced in September? I’m glad we have this to look forward to!

Haynes begins her novel with the explicit and noble mission to give voice to women from Greek mythology – many of whom were only ever portrayed as minor, unheroic and simplistic characters. This is a necessary and much-welcome endeavour because, aside from the feminist point of view  this adds to these male-dominated tales written by men, telling the story from the women’s perspective gives a rich opportunity for retelling these classic stories and shows there is still so much more to say about them. The novel begins with the muse Calliope being asked to inspire an old male poet by singing to him. She bargains for a trinket, but also insists he relate the stories of the women involved. Thus we get tales of the fall of Troy, the journey of Odysseus, the battles of Achilles, the revenge dealt to Agamemnon and the deities who intervened (or interfered) with the struggles of the mortals. But all these are told from the perspectives of Clytemnestra, Helen, Penelope, Thetis, Hecabe, Polyxena, Calliope, Eris, Gaia and many other women.

In some ways this feels like a greatest hits from Greek mythology as many of the events portrayed are well known. There are notable exceptions such as the tale of Hector’s wife Andromache which I was less familiar with. But what’s so clever is that Haynes develops an overall narrative to the motivations which influence many of these events. The mortals may feel like they are steering events, but it’s the deities who play them against each other as they bicker and squabble amongst themselves. I found it quite funny how the author shows so much carnage and chaos coming out of a petty battle amongst a group of goddesses. So even though this novel’s aim is to give voice to women it doesn’t idealize them because, of course, many of the female characters involved are motivated as much by spite, selfishness or cruelty as they are motivated at other times by magnanimity or kindness. This made the novel really dynamic, fun and suspenseful.

The trouble is that there’s been several retellings of this mythology in the past few years including “Circe”, “The Silence of the Girls” and “House of Names”, many of which have covered the same events. Of course, Haynes gives a different perspective to the stories and differently portrays the characters involved. But there were moments while reading this when I felt I’d read it before because there’s certain architecture and details to the tales which naturally overlap. And it’s certainly no fault of the author that she happens to have been caught in this zeitgeist of retellings or that her novel is the one I happened to read after all these others but it did detract from my enjoyment of the novel. My other main issue with the book was that there were so many characters involved it got somewhat confusing keeping them straight - I’m grateful a list of characters with descriptions was included at the beginning of the novel so I could occasionally refer to it. Nevertheless, it was still a pleasure to read this book and I felt like I got a lot out of it.

I think Haynes is excellent at balancing humour and poignancy in the way she relates these tales. Great fun is made at the expense of the deities and the male heroes’ arrogance and pomposity. But there are also moments of heartbreak and insight such as when it’s observed how language is also a victim of war because “when a city was sacked everything within it was destroyed right down to its words”. This gives a new perspective on history as well as mythology. But the strongest message of all is that heroic acts aren’t just made by men who are turned into statues and immortalized in stories which get retold through the ages. Penelope remarks how “The bards all sing of the bravery of heroes and the greatness of deeds. It is one of the few elements of your story on which they all agree. But no one sings of the courage required by those of us who are left behind.” This novel cleverly proves how the heroes of war aren’t only those who are fighting on the front lines.

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Afia Atakora’s debut novel “Conjure Women” takes place on a Southern plantation and focuses on the life of Rue, a girl born into slavery. She’s the daughter of the community’s much-respected midwife and conjure woman Miss May Belle. Though she passes much of her knowledge to her daughter, changing circumstances mean that Rue’s craft is under suspicion especially when a new born boy with startlingly black eyes is believed to be a curse or haint Rue has brought upon them: “They had been waiting on reprisal, reprisal for freedom, for the joy of being free, and when that reprisal wasn’t fast coming, they’d settled on the notion that punishment was finally come in the black eyes of a wrong-looking child.” The narrative occurs in two alternating timelines before and after the Civil War - ‘SlaveryTime’ and ‘FreedomTime’. This builds a lot of tension in the story as many mysteries build and shocking revelations occur. It was gripping and I was drawn into the psychological complexity of the characters as the intricacies of their relationships unfold.  

There’s a curious doubling between Rue and Varina, the red-haired daughter of the plantation owner. Varina often plays with Rue but there is no question that Varina is the young mistress who is privileged and ultimately destined to own Rue. This creates a power play between the girls and though they seem to share an intimacy Rue is strongly reminded at one point that they can never be friends. Miss May Belle sews a flip doll that is a white girl on one side and a black girl when inverted and this emphasizes the girls’ connection to each other as well as the way they are like two sides of the same coin. As the war progresses and dramatic events occur Rue finds herself empowered in a way she wasn’t before. While they may be forced to be at odds with each other because of the circumstances, each girl is subject to different abuse and the natural kinship they’d might otherwise find with each other is disrupted by racial injustice. But this is just one of many relationships which are twisted by the gross imbalance of power. Atakora movingly explores these dynamics through the lives of her characters.

Miss May Belle and Rue’s power may be based in superstitious belief but this grants them a power they wouldn’t otherwise have. Yet what’s fascinating is the way they use their understanding of the circumstances to bring about change rather than through any conjuring spells. Miss May Belle understands that “Faith in magic was far more potent than magic itself”. Atakora shows how Christian belief comes to take precedence over the community’s belief in conjuring in the form of Bruh Abel who comes to preach to them. This novel gave me a new perspective on the mechanics of faith as well as a new point of view on the after-effects of the Civil War. It was also a great pleasure to read for its evocative language and the building suspense as the story plays out to a moving conclusion. An overall vivid, enthralling tale.

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One of my favourite writers that I read during my time at university was George Orwell. I have a special fondness for his fiction such as “Keep the Aspidistra Flying” and “A Clergyman’s Daughter” (in addition, of course, to the famous “1984”) and nonfiction such as “Down and Out in Paris and London”. So it’s wonderful that The Orwell Foundation runs a series of prizes for new books which seek “to make political writing into an art” including an award for political fiction. Last year’s winner was Anna Burns for “Milkman” which is a sharp-eyed look at the personal impact of The Troubles in Northern Ireland. Other novels I was especially glad to see on last year’s shortlist include “Ironopolis” by Glen James Brown, “Sabrina” by Nick Drnaso and “Red Clocks” by Leni Zumas.

The longlist for this year’s prize has just been announced and includes an intriguing mixture of fiction I’ve read, a few I’ve been meaning to get to and some books I’ve not come across before. Some of these novels such as “The Topeka School” by Ben Lerner, “Spring” by Ali Smith and “The Nickel Boys” by Colson Whitehead have been critically lauded but received little or no prize attention before this award. So it’s great to see a book prize shine a spotlight on them and noting the political message of these books in particular. Four of these novels also appeared on last year’s Booker Prize longlist including “Ducks, Newburyport” by Lucy Ellman (which was the best book I read last year), “Girl, Woman, Other” by Bernardine Evaristo, “The Wall” by John Lanchester and “The Man Who Saw Everything” by Deborah Levy. Iconic writer Edna O’Brien’s novel “Girl” is also listed for this year’s Women’s Prize.

Other books on the list I’m keen to read include “This Paradise” by Ruby Cowling which is a collection of short stories about people fleeing towards places or times or situations they hope might be better. “Broken Jaw” by Minoli Salgado, the other book of short stories on the list, includes tales mostly set in Sri Lanka that concern the traumas of war. Regina Porter is an award-winning playwright and her debut novel “The Travelers” concerns the histories of two interconnected American families (one white, one black). Attica Locke is an acclaimed author of literary crime novels and “Heaven, My Home” is the second instalment in her Highway 59 series. James Meek’s “To Calais, In Ordinary Time” is a historical novel set in the 14th century amidst the shadow of the Black Death.  

So it’s a wonderfully varied list and I look forward to discovering some good new fiction from it. The shortlist will be announced mid-May and the winner will be announced on June 25th, George Orwell’s birthday. Let me know if you’re rooting for any of these books or if you’re keen to read any of them now.

Like a lot of people I’ve sometimes found reading difficult during this period of national lockdown. It can be challenging to concentrate when there’s so much anxiety all around me. So the calm and measured thoughtfulness found in Anne Tyler’s new novel is greatly welcome at this time. Since she focuses on psychological nuance and a realistic portrayal of daily experience nothing very dramatic or distressing often occurs in Tyler’s novels. That’s true for this book as well although there is an imagined apocalyptic scene which felt surprisingly relevant for this current time. At one point the protagonist has a fantasy that his community has been hit by “one of those neutron bombs they used to talk about that wiped out all of humanity but left the buildings intact” so that he imagines himself as the sole survivor and, while he would occupy himself with his usual solitary activities, he’d eventually go out looking for other people and find “Nothing.” This is exactly the sort of existential crisis many are experiencing now when they venture outside to a normally bustling community and find no one around. So this added a touching poignancy to an all-around gentle story about a man caught in the humdrum routines of his well-established lifestyle.

The novel follows the daily experiences of Micah, a man on the brink of middle age who has a lowkey life working as a “glorified handyman” assisting local individuals with their computer problems. He runs his independent business under the name Tech Hermit which is a title all too appropriate for him. Although he has a long-term girlfriend and close connections with his family, his life is dominated by tidy habits which shield him from any messiness in his home or emotional messiness. Eventually this distances him from those closest to him and when the son of an old flame arrives at his doorstep he finds himself confronted by how severely circumscribed his existence has become. As often happens in Tyler’s novel, the mundane details of ordinary life gradually build to something much more moving, substantial and profound. Few writers can capture the way individuals are trapped in the steady flow of time the way Tyler does.

My favourite novel by Tyler is “Ladder of Years” which concerns a wife and mother who literally walks away from her life to enjoy some precious much-needed solitude. In a way, “Redhead by the Side of the Road” offers an opposite point of view about a man who has consciously built a self-contained solitary world for himself but finds when he’s left absolutely alone he needs others to provide a form of disruption to his orderly routines. This causes him to glancingly imagine others around him when there’s really no one there such as when he comes upon a fire hydrant that he regularly passes by: “He momentarily mistook the hydrant for a redhead and gave his usual shake of the shoulders at how repetitious this thought was, how repetitious all his thoughts were, how they ran in a deep rut and how his entire life ran in a rut, really.” While many of us long for a special kind of solace found in being entirely alone, an important aspect of human nature is maintaining some form of human contact. Yes, this will inevitably lead to disorder or even chaos but part of the pleasure of living is not being able to predict what these interactions will bring. This novel shows that Tyler’s humble story can provide a startlingly timely message.

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The shortlist for this year’s International Booker prize was announced online yesterday – the planned event for this had to be cancelled because of the global pandemic. If nothing else, recent events show how important it is for us to access literature from other countries to stay connected and in dialogue with each other during these uncertain times. It’s notable how the shortlisted novels reach out to many different corners of the globe including Japan, Iran, the Netherlands, Germany, Mexico and Argentina. The list is also largely populated by female authors and a few of the novels give radical new retellings of national myths, legends or origin stories. So I especially appreciate how this group of books gives voice to female, queer and working class perspectives from history which are often left out of historical accounts. You can watch my quick reaction to this year’s shortlist announcement in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1udkZ9uMBTA

I’ve had the pleasure of reading a number of the nominated novels from the longlist over the past month and I’m delighted with the group of six novels the judges have chosen. Three in particular which stand out to me are the excellent historical novel “Tyll” which takes place during the Thirty Year War in central Europe, “Hurricane Season” which gives a panoramic look at life in a Mexican town centring around the death of an individual branded a witch and “The Memory Police” which creatively uses a dystopian story to ponder philosophical and psychological issues to do with memory. I enjoyed reading “The Adventures of China Iron” but had some issues with how fanciful the narrative became. And “The Discomfort of Evening” was an interesting book from a promising new writer but felt too meandering to come together for me. The only novel on the shortlist I’ve not read yet is “The Enlightenment of the Greengage Tree” but I’ve heard such excellent things about this novel from other people who’ve read it that I’m greatly anticipating it now.

I was surprised not to see “The Eighth Life” on the list because I’m currently caught in reading this sweeping epic and I was disappointed that “The Other Name” wasn’t shortlisted as this is such a movingly meditative novel. But overall it’s an excellent list. Let me know if you’ve read any of these novels and what you think of them or if you’re keen to give any a try now.